


On the Other Side

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 16:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: “I think you were right, when you said I was sentimental.”





	On the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kornevable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kornevable/gifts).



> prompt was 'upon a star'

Midorima believes in luck, obviously. But there is a difference between luck that is given and luck that is created. In order to take advantage of a situation you have to put yourself in the position to do so. Waiting for opportunity to knock, instead of covering your bases and being proactive, is sheer stupidity; taking the opportunities because you see them first and from the best angle is common sense. And all that is to say that there are limits to how he can position himself; in the end some opportunities will never come no matter how hard he pushes for them. And sometimes it can’t hurt to wish on a star. 

“That’s very sentimental of you, Midorimacchi,” says Kise. 

Midorima’s face feels hot all of a sudden; he’s sure he’s blushing again and he hopes Kise can’t see it in the dark. 

“Why is it sentimental of me? It only makes sense to prepare myself as best I can.” (To Midorima’s wonder and relief, his voice doesn’t crack.) 

“That’s true,” says Kise.

Midorima can’t tell if there is teasing in his tone. He’s not sure he wants to know. 

“It’s cold,” Kise says, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“You should have worn a scarf,” says Midorima.

(He can’t say that Kise should have dried his hair better after practice, because he’d pulled out his hair drier in the locker room the way he does every day, and had somehow ended up the first one ready to go. Akashi has an excuse, what with talking to the coaches, but no one else does, especially since Midorima and Kise have the most detailed routines--a sloppy wash and a change of clothes shouldn’t take this long.)

“I don’t want to wait,” says Kise. “Let’s just go; we can see everyone tomorrow.”

“You can go,” says Midorima.

Kise sighs. “You don’t get it, Midorimacchi.”

“What don’t I get?”

The door opens behind them, and the question goes unanswered. Aomine takes the conversation, and Kise, over, but Midorima doesn’t forget. He looks back up at the stars, only a few visible this far into the center of the city, pinpointing the one he’d wished on. At least Kise had had enough tact not to ask Midorima what he’d wished for.

* * *

Midorima doesn’t think back on this moment often. It’s lost in the shuffle of the moments that follow it, and some that had preceded; there are victories and points and simmering tensions that even Midorima can see. And there are the explosions, the shattering of the team, and its eventual dissolution. And there is Kise, there, and afterwards, Kise meeting him and Takao for dinner, Kise meeting him in the stands at tournaments, Kise who seems to be in the area for some modeling job or other, or for no reason at all. 

Midorima is not proud that he can’t add everything together, but in his defense there’s a lot going on. He’s been distracted the whole time, and hadn’t even known to pay attention to this, as if he’s being given a quiz about the previous day’s math lesson and the questions are all about where the teacher wrote the equations on the chalkboard. 

But soon enough, it’s just the two of them, standing outside at night, waiting for their teammates at the Interhigh. It’s like old times, only it’s not, really; they’ve all changed too much, their worlds expanded faster than the universe. They have bridged the gaps between stars, and Midorima’s wish back then, for victory for Teikou, seems silly, something he shouldn’t have wished for when there were so many other things beyond his direct control.

(That’s another thing about luck. Midorima can position himself as best he can, but there are so many parts around him, so many people and things whose positions he can’t affect, and the best he can do with them is relative. But it’s also up to him to make up for the deficits, as much as he can. Basketball is not a vacuum, with just him against the other team.)

“I think you were right, when you said I was sentimental,” Midorima says.

Kise says nothing. Perhaps he’s forgotten.

“You really think so?” says Kise.

That’s when something sinks in, under Midorima’s (admittedly) very thick skull. What Kise had meant, what he might mean still--what he might no longer want.

* * *

“What do you do if you think someone used to like you?” says Midorima.

“You picked up on that?” says Takao. “Wow, my little Shin-chan, growing up so fast—”

“Shut up,” says Midorima, and he moves to shut his bento and move away.

“I was only kidding,” says Takao. “But okay, wow. This is big for you, huh?”

Midorima shrugs, looking away, straight into the sun glaring off his glasses, so he looks down instead.

“Do you like them?”

“I don’t know,” says Midorima.

“Do they like you now?”

“I don’t know,” says Midorima, again. 

Takao sighs. “Give me something more to work with.”

Midorima looks back at Takao, but Takao doesn’t look judgemental or annoyed, a little curious but also, maybe, like he wants to help.

“I didn’t really pick up on the clues. I’m afraid I came across as--rather insensitive.”

“You are insensitive.”

Midorima scowls. 

“Look, if it bothers you that much, then let me take a guess. You do like this person, but you’re afraid you missed your shot.”

Midorima doesn’t answer. He hates admitting that Takao is right. 

“Talk to them about it,” says Takao. “You’re the one who’s always talking about positioning yourself for opportunities. They’re probably just as embarrassed about it as you are, so you’ll be fine.”

That’s easy for him to say.

* * *

Kaijou has an exhibition game against Seihou the next afternoon, and Midorima goes alone. He gets there in the middle of the second half, with Kaijou up in a comfortable lead. Kise’s benched, to rest his leg still, but he comes back out toward the end of the game (probably, Midorima thinks with a fond sort of amusement, so his coach doesn’t have to deal with his whining about wanting to play). Well--he really does like Kise.

This is not a shoujo manga type of hearts in the air, nor is it the real-life sort of nervous blushing our awkward touching that his classmates seem engaged in. But it’s definitely something, the way Kise relaxes his position and then pulls a beautiful crossover, the way it’s Midorima’s shot he goes for to seal the game and the pride that evokes inside Midorima. 

Midorima has prepared a whole speech inside his head, but that all falls out of the bottom of his brain like a trapdoor has opened when he sees Kise.

Instead, he says, “I like you.”

Kise seems pleased, at least.


End file.
